Delicate
by thekatthatbarks
Summary: Sometimes, it wasn't even the walls you put up yourself that keep you from getting what you want. Sometimes, it was just that - a wall. Inspired by Delicate by Damien Rice.


Behind closed doors, their moments were loud and vibrant. Colors filled the room in shades of red. Gasps and moans let loose from soft lips. Grips were sure and strong, leaving bruises in easily covered areas and bites that were left to give just that little bit of thrill outside the walls.

Nothing was _hidden_ here. Everything they had, every part of them was laid out and put on display for the other to take. Laughter was loud, and smiles were broad showing the whites of their teeth and the dimples in their cheeks.

They knew each other better than anyone, even themselves. Every crevice of their bodies, the patches of skin that would make them tingle and the ones that would make them giggle. The feel of the other arching into their palms. The sugar that would linger on their lips from kisses below fabric. The salty taste of sweat and that certain warmth that was for them to share.

But outside, their moments were subtle and spoken in whispers. It wasn't vibrant and loud but only covered in soft hues of pink if any color at all. Sarcastic comments and double meanings filled the air when they were with others. Jealousy ate away underneath their nails, possessiveness and longing making adventurous hands reach out underneath tables.

Panic and racing hearts as they jumped away from each other at the sound of loud voices and turned heads. Flinches and cringes followed by apologetic looks. Mistakes and misunderstandings with bitten tongues and chapped lips. It was like they weren't even friends. Their closeness creating a distance that was like trying to cross a canyon with a piece of string. Grand and pointless.

It was painful – e _xcruciating_ to want someone that was already _theirs_.

Sakura felt her throat close up and that familiar tightness in her chest when her hand was quickly brushed away from Ino's knee. She glanced behind Ino and was not surprised to see Shikamaru standing there. He was laughing with her, oblivious to the wandering hands and aching hearts of his friends. She wished she could laugh like that with Ino, so carefree. But she couldn't because she didn't feel _carefree_ , on the contrary, she felt _careful_ in any and every sense of the word.

They didn't talk about it – except, to _not_ talk about it. She still wasn't sure _what_ they were doing and didn't even think Ino knew herself. She just knew what they _weren't_ doing.

They were scared and neither of them could even tell you of what. Ino had once called it _delicate_. Sakura hadn't known if she'd been talking about their relationship or love itself. But either way, she was right. It _was_ delicate; beautiful and oh so breakable in the grip of clumsy fingers. They'd both been known to drop glasses just to watch them shatter, so it was no wonder they didn't attempt to hold _this_ for long periods of time.

Sakura's grip on her sake cup tightened and she tried to focus on not breaking it like she knew she could if she let her emotions get the best of her. She smiled bitterly into her drink, wondering if holding Ino's hand could ease the pain. _It could… which only made it worse._

There was a couple across the bar that Sakura's gaze happened to land on when she looked up. _Her eyes always wandered to couples when they were in public, as if searching out answers to questions she couldn't even ask._

It was a man and a woman tucked away in a booth at the corner of the bar. Sakura didn't recognize them, so they must've been civilians. They sat on the same side, curled towards one another and it made Sakura's insides twist into knots. Their heads were ducked low, talking in hush tones with warm smiles. He was mindlessly tracing circles on the woman's hand, his other hand playing with the ends of her long blonde hair. She giggled at something he said, and he kissed her temple in response. It was so _soft_. It made the lump in Sakura's throat harden.

She tore her eyes away from them and debated the chances of convincing Ino to come home with her. She felt fragile – _delicate_ , as she thought about how to ask, how to get her to agree. She didn't know what her answer would be, and she _hated_ that because she knew what they both _wanted_ it to be.

How could she love her but not _love_ her?

 _Why_ love her if she wasn't going to _love_ her?

But even as the questions crossed her mind, Sakura didn't know who she was talking about.

Her or Ino.


End file.
